


Systolic pending

by bluebells



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Post-Film, Rough Sex, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“On your death,” Loki promises him, almost tenderly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Systolic pending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/gifts).



> There are times in a writer's life when you can truthfully point to someone else and heap all the blame on them: thanks for taking one for the team, emerald_embers. ;)

Behind the mask, Loki can snarl as much as he likes, but his lies have no air, and Thor will not listen. 

The mask bears the illusion of silence and grace, but Loki's eyes follow Thor's every movement, his gaze heavy with promise: _I will shatter everything you love, and you will beg me for reprieve before the end._

That look makes Thor falter. Loki was his kindred, his shadow by the throne who should have stood at his side. This enmity should never have swelled between them. 

“Brother, please.” Thor's voice cracks, he shakes his head. 

But the time for pleas and negotiation has been burned in chapters at their back. Loki's eyes narrow with a hint of malignant glee, defeated, but not bowed. His chin rises in defiance when Thor's hand settles on his shoulder, standing toe-to-toe on this interim planet.

 _Ask me,_ Loki's gaze mocks him. _It would be my pleasure to refuse you again._

“Loki,” Thor tries to reason with him. “You will be taken before the court.”

Loki's hair curls around his shoulder with the gentle, disinterested cant of his head. _Yes?_

“You'll be made to answer to _father_.”

Loki's gaze hardens with cold hatred. Thor understands the hurt from the revelation of Loki's birth is still to be balmed, but he doesn't think Loki has any intention of letting Thor assist him. Not on earth and not on this foreign wasteland where they've taken their rest before meeting the gavel of Asgard.

Although Odin still loves his sons – both his sons (he professed to Thor) – Asgardian law will demand his judgement not fall lightly.

Loki's bound hands shove Thor in his chest. He glowers at the jagged rocky peaks on the horizon. _Your father, not mine._

It's beyond Thor's influence. Loki must answer for his crimes. 

“Do you understand?”

Loki obstinately avoids his gaze. Thor pulls his brother back, fingers digging tightly around his shoulder. 

“Do you understand?”

Somehow, Thor ends up on his back. He remembers grunting at the shock of the blow against his chest, the scrape and grind of rough cliff stones under their boots; tumbling, sprawling, and swinging out, and then _ow_. His head spins with the force of Loki's shackles smashed against his temple.

Loki is a heavy weight on Thor's chest, shackles against his throat. His eyes promise he will press until Thor is choking and his lips are as blue as Loki's true pallour.

The hammer is not far from Thor's reach. One swing is all it will take.

“Come home with me,” Thor begs, barely a whisper.

The shackles dig against his windpipe. A twist, and Thor wrenches away the stranglehold. Loki growls behind his mask when Thor drags him down to his chest, almost nose-to-nose.

“Loki,” Thor stresses, searching his brother's eyes for something beyond ice. “I want you to come home with me.”

They are bound for Asgard: their destination and Loki's fate are set. What Thor asks is for more than Loki's compliance. 

“Take your cup, be my _brother_ ,” Thor rushes on. “Come home to _me._ ”

A breath and something passes over Loki's face: a frown, he draws back. Thor lunges at the opening. 

Loki's mask is torn away, and his grunt of surprise muffles between their mouths.

Thor's hands bury in his brother's collar and the long mess of his hair, holding him tight and drawing him closer when Loki responds, lips parting. Loki kisses with a snarl of knives. He is violent and he means to punish, to avenge himself, but Thor's strength will always win. He doesn't relinquish his hold when Loki's teeth draw blood and his blows pummel Thor's armour. Holding fast, they scuffle on the cliff face, Loki fights and writhes and shoves, and his glare strikes at Thor's heart.

“It should have been me,” Loki growls, tearing Thor's vest of armour.

 _It was always you,_ Thor mourns. _But not for the throne._

“Come home,” he says instead.

Loki's scowl is crushed within their kiss, but his fingers bruise pulling Thor against him, scraping down pale skin once bared to the night air, and he only grunts with the air punched from his lungs when Thor flips him onto his back. Thor's cape is twisted around their waists, his hands fly at their buckles, and Loki almost breaks the skin of Thor's shoulder when he lifts his hips to Thor's hand, shivering as fingers slide into him. He shudders and bucks and lets Thor draw one of his legs around his waist as Thor works him open with familiar haste.

It's almost like home, but home was never so cold, and Thor never lay him down where rocks could mar his skin. Thor watches Loki's gaze fall to the side, a frown flitting across his expression at the sprawling, barren world beneath them; jagged valleys and troughs of rock, ice and vapour. Once Loki is home, it may be impossible to steal this again. Loki will be watched and guarded, and it is Thor's most fervent hope that Loki will find mercy and repentance.

Loki will return to Asgard, but he will not return home unless it is to Thor.

Loki's eyes slide shut, but he can't hold in his groan when Thor finally sinks himself in, Loki's thighs parting wider around him. Thor's head bows against Loki's shoulder, catching his breath, he wonders how Loki can strangle him with so much heat if his core is frost, but then Loki's hands are dragging him in; the thought bleeds away. Thor rolls his hips, Loki arches beneath him with a growl, eyes flashing, and then Thor is pinning Loki's hands to the stone, leaning his weight behind every shove and snap of his hips until Loki's head falls back, eyes closing with a wince of pleasure.

Thor leans down to his brother's ear, squeezing the wrists in his hold. “Come home.”

_Give up._

“On your death,” Loki spits, even as he rises to meet Thor's next thrust, trembling.

Thor releases one of Loki's hands to cup the back of his neck and tilt his soft, deceitful mouth up. Loki tastes like Asgard: like dusk on the ocean and the cold winds of the rainbow bridge. Loki's tongue thrusts against his, plundering Thor's mouth. Thor moans, tasting all the things he desperately wants back with the heat building at his spine.

Fingers clutch at his hips, pulling him deeper with a groan when he finally spills over the edge. 

Loki is flushed and trembling underneath him, but the ice in his gaze makes Thor swallow.

“On your death,” Loki promises him, almost tenderly.

Thor's heart sinks in understanding. So be it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [at Livejournal](http://users.livejournal.com/_bluebells/71335.html).


End file.
